Trapped in the Drive-Thru
by Zenith the Hedgehog
Summary: A trip to the drive-thru turns into a nightmare. Based on the eleven-minute epic by "Weird Al" Yankovic.


_Thanks to Alma von Arena for pointing out some obvious stuff after I stupidly decided to put it up when it was still a rough draft of some sort. Now it's rated T for swearing and the OOC level is still off the charts. Don't forget that your reviews are greatly appreciated._

* * *

I sat alone on the living room sofa, totally oblivious to the not-so-bright screen in front of me, looking as though I'd passed out or gotten hung over, or maybe I'd caught the wrong Zs. I could've sworn I'd heard some footsteps. Then a familiar voice snapped me out of the trance enabled by moving pictures: "What is this garbage you're watching?"

"Something," I snapped without twitching a muscle. "I'm too lazy right now to figure out what."

Bridgette the Cat sat down next to me, thinking that I had no clue what I was watching. "I wanna watch the news." She reached for the remote.

_Oh wait, this is that Megadeth video._ "This IS the news." I quickly pried the command module from her left hand, not caring if she still wanted to watch the History Channel. At that point a different idea popped into my head: "Hey, as long as you're here, do you have any ideas on what we could do for dinner?"

She took a moment for the biggest sigh I'd ever heard. "I don't know if I'm ready for that yet," she moaned. "I like, feasted pretty hard today."

"And I roasted pretty hard today," I remarked. Actually, my anti-drinking self merely played a crapload of Portal 3 today.

"Whatever," she replied. "If you have any ideas, I'm open to hear what you got." Unfortunately, when it came to this kind of topic, my mind was always at a downright blank. "You know what, gimme a minute to think of anything we could pull from the fridge." Five seconds. "Ok, I'm out of ideas."

"There _is_ that tuna," I suggested. :P

"Ugh, no. It's gross and ugly and rotten by now."

"Well what about that chili? Could we do that?"

"You ate it all up, remember?"

"No," I lied. They were the only ideas going in my head at the moment. "Yes. I get it, ok?"

"Oh well," she sighed again, "I guess we can wait on it. Like I said, I'm not really that famished right now."

I just stared at the TV again, not really paying attention to what was being displayed on the screen. Soon enough, I came up with an awesome idea: "Hey, what do you think of getting a pizza for delivery?"

"Liver?" Where did she come up with that?!

"Liver?!" Thanks to that blatantly random remark, I lost track of what we were just talking about for like, two seconds.

"What makes you think I'd want to eat liver?" she asked.

"I said nothing of the sort," I pointed out, obviously hoping she wasn't really considering liver.

"I heard you say 'liver'..."

"Look, I said 'de-li-ver'd'," blatantly intentionally mispronouncing each and every syllable in the word, "as in, I can just go pick up the phone right now, call some pizza shop, tell them what I want, and they'll bring it to us. Got that?"

"Are you crazy?!" she snapped. "I don't want strangers to know where we live!"

"Oh yeah, you're right. Shit."

Bridgette sighed for the third time in five minutes. "I don't care what we do, I just..."

My cell phone started ringing right as she started talking again. "Gimme a minute." I pulled my iPhone from my right pocket and looked at the "name" of the contact causing my phone to ring. Because I never addressed anyone by their real names.

"Oh great. It's the President of the ZLAC again."

"Just let the voicemail take it," she said.

"Whatever," I submitted, stuffing the phone back in the well-worn-out pouch. "Damn, I forgot what we were just talking — oh yeah, dinner. Wow, epic fail." I facepalm'd myself in the face, looking well defeated right at that moment.

"You know what, just whip up something in the kitchen," she (maybe) ordered in her (maybe) groaning tone.

"You know what, YOU go whip up something in the kitchen."

She stood up, seeming to trot towards the door to the apartment building, and said, "Can we just please go out to dinner for once?"

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes. I'll get your keys."

"Fine," I grumbled without really making a commitment. "Just tell me what you're thinking of."

"I was thinking the Bungalow, maybe..." she started.

"You mean right on the border?"

"Yeah. It's only a 15-mile drive."

"No. I really don't wanna get dressed up and pay $50 for the two of us to eat, tip and all." Because it was 7:00 pm and I was still wearing a pair of Derpy Hooves pajama bottoms along with an Iron Maiden t-shirt. "I'd be ok with anything in the metro area."

"We could try Los Ocampo..."

"Mexican't. I've had enough of that in five weeks." Bridgette and I did Taco Tuesdays in those five weeks. "And don't even get me started on Pizza Ranch."

"Why not?" she retorted.

"Diarrhea problems."

"Oh geez, you didn't have to say that! You know what, never mind that." She stood up and started drifting away from this pleasant conversation. "My appetite hasn't grown an inch in the last two minutes, and I think it intends to stay like that."

"No, come back here!" I started yelling, following her wherever. "I'll take you out! Come on! I just got the best idea ever!"

"What?"

"Guess!"

"WHAT?!"

Wait for it... the Mongols.

I caught her at the kitchen counter, breathed deeply one last time, and let the one thing on my mind come out like a time bomb with less than a second left: "We're going to the drive-thru!"

She just stood there, looking confuzed possibly due to me not letting her retire the subject. "Wait... who's driving?"

"I am."

"Wait..." As if she still didn't get it.

"Uh, what?"

"You can drive?"

"Yeah. I took driver's ed six years ago." I was only thankful that I was at least tall enough to drive after all those years.

She still looked like she had no clue what I was getting at.

"Wait..."

"What now!?"

"You're only thirteen."

"I'm driving. End of story. Good night."


End file.
